


Nothing Has Changed

by Luv_Bowie_Luver



Series: Dream On [2]
Category: David Bowie (Musician), Dream On (TV 1990), Sir Roland Moorecock
Genre: F/M, Funny, Mild Sexual Harassment Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-07
Updated: 2015-04-20
Packaged: 2018-03-21 17:02:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 11,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3700157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luv_Bowie_Luver/pseuds/Luv_Bowie_Luver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nevaeh is studying Psychology and wants to get inside Sir Roland's head in order to acquire top marks for her current assignment, but it proves to be quite the insurmountable task.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Job

There was a crispness to the air as the cameras were moved into place, word had gotten around that the famous Sir Roland Moorecock was holding auditions today so that he could find a cast for his upcoming film. A lot of hopefuls showed up, many of them were young women looking to land their first big starring role. Nevaeh was there, too but she wasn't trying to get into the movie. She wanted to work with Sir Roland on a more personal level, get inside his head and try to figure him out. He was quite famed for being very abrupt with people, barely uttering a kind word to anyone without something insulting following soon after.  
  
  
She tried to approach the man himself, as he sat looking bored in his director's chair but she was continuously blocked by the crowd. Squeezing through the half naked try-hards who obviously planned to use their bodies as leverage to sway Roland's decision, Nevaeh finally managed to be able to get close enough to him. She walked over to his chair and he held out his hand to her, not looking at her until she cleared her throat. He frowned, looking her up and down.  
  
  
"I asked for a bottle of water five minutes ago!" he growled.  
  
  
"Sorry," Nevaeh apologized, "I just arrived a moment ago."  
  
  
"Without my water?" Roland sized her up again.  
  
  
"I don't know anything about the water," Nevaeh told him, "I wanted to talk to you."  
  
  
"I'm busy," Roland turned away from her.  Nevaeh looked around, she saw a cooler and walked over to it. There were some water bottles inside it, so she took one out and returned to Sir Roland's side. She knelt down and he turned towards her, lifting a brow as she handed him the bottle. He accepted it, but did not thank her.  
  
  
"May I please speak with you now?" Nevaeh tried again.  
  
  
"Get in line like everyone else," he told her, sounding tired already.  
  
  
"Oh, I'm not trying to audition," Nevaeh said quickly. Roland smirked at her.  
  
  
"Sure," he rolled his eyes and looked forwards to bark at the people who were trying to get the camera into position.

  
  
  
"Get it right!" Roland demanded, "don't just leave it there!  What do you think this is?  You, get that dog off my set."  
  
  
Nevaeh sighed, there was just no talking to him right now but if she left it until after the auditions; she'd never get another chance. Suddenly, he looked at her again.  
  
  
"This water is not cold," he handed it back to her, "get me a cooler bottle."  
  
  
Nevaeh frowned at him, did he think she worked for him?  She stood up and returned to the cooler, perhaps it was a good thing that he thought she was his employee. She could stick close to him without seeming suspicious, find out what she needed to know and he wouldn't be any the wiser. She smiled to herself, picked out a nice, cold bottle of water and brought it back to Sir Roland. He took it without looking at her, watching the first hopeful walk onto the set and everyone fell silent.  
  
  
"ACTION!" Sir Roland shouted, causing the girl to startle and stammer as she spoke her lines, "CUT! NEXT!"  The girl left in tears and Nevaeh pitied her, that really hadn't been fair.  
  
  
"ACTION!" Sir Roland shouted, then he looked around, "ACTION!"  
  
  
An old man was shuffling his way onto the set, Nevaeh watched him as he finally reached the right spot and delivered his lines flawlessly. Sir Roland looked impressed, for once.  
  
  
"Excellent!" he nodded, "unfortunately, I want to get this movie finished sometime this _century!_ NEXT!"  
  
  
The old man was assisted from the set and Nevaeh started to get quite irritated with Roland, there wasn't any need for him to be so rude. So why did he insist on it?  She had heard of his personality from others who had met him, but now she was experiencing him first hand and realized they had been far too kind in describing him! _He was atrocious!_  
  
  
The next woman delivered her lines quite well, Nevaeh silently dared Roland to find fault with her.  
  
  
"Thank you," Roland waved her away, then turned to a man standing beside him, "put her on the call back list."  The man nodded and ran after the woman before she left. Now Roland was alone, so Nevaeh tried again.  
  
  
"Sir Roland," she spoke quietly. He looked at her, then he frowned.  
  
  
"What is it now?" he demanded impatiently, "can't you see I am very busy?"  A woman walked onto the set, she wore so very little clothing and Roland stared at her for a moment. She smiled at him and waved her fingers towards him, Roland did not look impressed.  
  
  
"Is your water cold enough?" asked Nevaeh.  
  
  
"It's _too_ cold!" Roland complained, then he looked at her again, "what do you want from me?"  
  
  
"I'm, uhm... I'm your new... Personal Assistant!" Nevaeh employed herself for him.  
  
  
"I already have one of those," Roland informed her, as the man from earlier returned to his other side.  
  
  
"Yes," Nevaeh replied, "but someone as important and as busy as yourself warrants a second PA, don't you think?"  He was silent for a moment, then he turned his attention back to the set.  
  
  
"ACTION!" he shouted. Nevaeh smiled slightly, as he seemed to accept her explanation without a lot of questioning. The woman flirted with him during her audition, bending over so that her breasts almost fell out of her top. Sir Roland sighed heavily, shaking his head.  
  
  
"CUT!" he shouted angrily, "I'm looking for a WIDOW, not a fucking PORN STAR! NEXT!"   The woman huffed and stormed off the set, Nevaeh hadn't heard Sir Roland swear before nor had anyone warned her that he did it so blatantly.  
  
  
"That was a bit rude," she scolded him.  He turned to her and his expression was confused, as if he had no idea what she was on about.  
  
  
"I do apologize," he said softly, then a little louder he added, "I thought you were aware that I just don't give a -.. "  
  
  
"Sir Roland," the man beside him spoke nervously. Roland slowly turned to look at him.  
  
  
"It's going to rain," the man informed Roland.  
  
  
"And?" Sir Roland lifted a brow. The man looked puzzled, then cleared his throat and turned away.


	2. Shoo Fly

Nevaeh decided to try again.  
  
  
"Something is bothering you," she said firmly, "can we please talk in private, Roland?"  His cold gaze cast her way once more.  
  
  
"You're right," he admitted, "there _is_ something bothering me."  Nevaeh looked at him sympathetically.  
  
  
"I'll give you a little hint," Roland leaned in close to her ear, then spoke loudly, "it's YOU!"  He then turned sharply towards the set.  
  
  
"ACTION!" he caught the waiting young man off guard and everyone watched as he simply stood there in a kind of frozen daze. Roland stared hard at him, then picked up his megaphone.  
  
  
"That means _do_ something!" he shouted, his voice amplified by the device, "I'm not looking for _sculptures_ right now! NEXT!"  
  
  
Nevaeh watched as the poor man was escorted off the set, not even having been given a chance to at least attempt to deliver his performance. She wasn't giving up, she had an assignment to complete in her psychology class and if she wanted to get those perfect marks then she needed to get inside his head. It was proving to be quite the challenge, he simply wouldn't open up to her.  
  
  
"You know," she said casually, "it helps to talk. If something is wrong, maybe if you tell me about it; I could help you?"  Sir Roland looked at her curiously, he was silent in that moment and she smiled at him. Her hand came to rest upon his arm and he stared at it for a moment, before lifting his gaze to meet with hers.  
  
  
"You... You _really_ want to know?" he asked her, quietly and in obvious disbelief.  Nevaeh nodded, finally she was getting through to him.  
  
  
"Yes," she said softly, "please, tell me what's wrong."  Roland looked a little uncertain, then he lowered his eyes to the ground.  
  
  
"If you really must know," he said gently, "there's... this woman."  Nevaeh listened carefully, so it was a woman bothering him?  
  
  
"Go on," she encouraged him, "what did she do?"   Roland met her gaze with his own.  
  
  
"She... " he hesitated, then his tone got angry, "Won't. Leave. Me. _Alone!_ "  
  
  
"Ugh!" Nevaeh stood up and threw her hands into the air, "I give _up!_ "  
  
  
" _Thank_ you!" Roland sounded relieved, turning back to the set, "and... ACTION!"  
  
  
Nevaeh walked angrily over to a bench, sitting on it and folding her arms. She kept an eye on Sir Roland for a long time, waiting to see if he glanced at her for even a moment. If he did, she would know for certain that somewhere deep inside of him, was a man crying out for help; but Roland did not look at her even once. She witnessed his most scathing critiques that day, so many people went home in tears and very few actually got onto the call back list. Nevaeh had to wonder just how he ever got a film into production, or why anyone ever bothered to show up at all in the first place.


	3. Talk To Me

It was almost lunchtime, Roland walked over to Nevaeh and sat beside her on the bench. She glanced at him, he was looking at her expectantly.  
  
  
"What do you want?" she asked him.  
  
  
"My lunch," he replied bitterly.  
  
  
"Oh yeah?" Nevaeh sat back, "then get it yourself!"  
  
  
He stared after her as she stood up and stalked off, she sat on another bench and looked at him. He seemed a little bit lost, as if he had no idea what to do next.

  
  
  
Nevaeh sighed and stood up again, feeling sorry for him though she had no idea why. She went back to the cooler and poked around in it, finding some sandwiches and taking them to him. He turned his nose up at them.  
  
  
"What do I look like, a _school boy?_ " he chided her, "I never eat anything that isn't _chef prepared!_ "  Nevaeh held her tongue, getting to her feet.  
  
  
"Can I drive you home, then?" she suggested.  He stood up, nodding shortly.  
  
  
"Yes," he agreed at last, "that would be acceptable." He followed her to her car, but stood back.  
  
  
"I'm not getting into _that!_ " he refused, his nose wrinkled in disgust.  Nevaeh got in, smiling at him and putting on her sunglasses.  
  
  
"I'll meet you there, then!" she started the engine.  
  
  
Roland looked around, as if trying to locate something but he didn't seem to be able to find it and his gaze returned to the car. He reluctantly got in, holding his hand to shield his face as if not wanting to be seen. Nevaeh shook her head amusedly and drove out to the road, listening to his nasty comments about her driving skills and his vague directions on how she should get to his home.  
  
  
*  
  
  
"Stop here," Roland finally told her. Nevaeh pulled up but she didn't think that this looked anything like where Sir Roland might live. The houses were nice, very nice but not big enough. He got out of the car and she followed him, they walked for quite some distance before they arrived at his mansion and Nevaeh had to wonder just why he'd stopped her so far away?  
  
  
Sir Roland walked into the mansion and Nevaeh looked around in amazement, it was huge!  But it was quiet and empty. The only sounds she could hear were coming from the kitchen, where Sir Roland was already venturing inside to make sure the chef was not touching the food with his bare hands. As she listened to their exchange, Nevaeh glanced around at the paintings and lovely furniture that decorated the room. She found it quite a charming place, despite the occupant. She was feeling quite hungry herself by now, as she sat down on an armchair and waited for Sir Roland to join her.  
  
  
He eventually did so, but he picked up a newspaper from the coffee table and began to look through it. Nevaeh sat silently for a moment, then she shifted and cleared her throat. He looked at her, annoyed.  
  
  
"Do you need a throat lozenge?" he asked her. Nevaeh looked confused.  
  
  
"No," she replied, "Sir Roland, I really would like to talk to you, if you have a moment?"  He set the paper down with a sigh, then stared at her impatiently. Nevaeh sat back a little, finally she had his complete attention.  
  
  
"Roland, I would like to ask you about your past," she began. Roland hesitated, unsure of what she was driving at.  
  
  
"Why?" he asked her.  
  
  
"Well," Nevaeh felt a little awkward now, "to be honest, I find you quite bitter."  His expression turned puzzled, which made the situation more awkward for Nevaeh because the look was so genuine.

  
  
  
"Bitter?" he asked, sitting up straighter, "I don't follow you."  Nevaeh opened her mouth, but she didn't get the chance to say anything more on the subject.  
  
  
"Sir Roland," the chef entered the room, "lunch is served."  
  
  
Roland stood up and promptly left for the dining room, the chef went home and Nevaeh was left alone with her mouth still open. She slowly closed it and folded her arms, baffled by Roland's lack of understanding. Did he not know he was being mean? Was it something he did subconsciously?  She stood up and went to the dining room doorway, looking in at the table where Roland sat alone. She thought she had better get the best marks for this assignment, because it was quite fascinating now that she was getting deeper into it. Roland ate quietly as Nevaeh watched him unnoticed, even though there weren't any other people there; his table manners were infallible.  
  
  
Nevaeh blinked finally and backed away, returning to the armchair she'd sat in before. She felt something strange just now and it disturbed her, because it made no sense at all. She picked up the newspaper and tried to distract herself, but she couldn't stop thinking about the way he had looked at her when she'd called him bitter. It was like he felt he did not deserve the title.  Eventually, Sir Roland returned to the living room and sat down. He seemed a little happier now that he had eaten, so Nevaeh tried again.  
  
  
"About your past," she began.  He looked irritated.  
  
  
"Why do you find me bitter?" Roland asked her.  Nevaeh chewed on her pinky finger, nervously.  
  
  
"That's disgusting," Roland stood up and turned away, "go home and eat something."  
  
  
He left her there, looking quite bewildered and feeling very embarrassed. Nevaeh slowly let herself out of his mansion, walked to her car and drove home. Perhaps she could go back later and try again, but she still couldn't shake that odd feeling that had crept into her earlier. It felt almost as if... as if she was fond of Roland. She chuckled out loud, it was absurd of course.  
  
  
_Nobody_ liked Sir Roland.  



	4. It's My Party

Nevaeh returned to Sir Roland's home later that day, she rang the doorbell and he opened the door. His expression quickly changed from curious, to outright annoyed when he saw her.  
  
  
"What do you want?" he asked her.  
  
  
"May I come in?" Nevaeh asked him.  
  
  
He stepped aside and she entered his mansion once more. He closed the door and Nevaeh stood looking quite red faced as she looked around the room. It was full of people!  
  
  
"I really don't want to talk to you right now," Roland whispered into her ear and she hesitated, his gentle breath felt quite nice as he spoke. Nevaeh snapped out of it and turned to him, embarrassed again.  
  
  
"I had no idea," she said quietly, "I'm so sorry to interrupt!" He smirked, her obvious discomfort seeming to give him some sort of pleasure.  
  
  
"You really should go," he told her firmly, "everyone will notice that dress you're wearing."  Nevaeh looked down at herself.  
  
  
"What's wrong with my dress?" she asked him.  
  
  
"What's _wrong_ with it?" he repeated in disbelief, "what's _right_ with it?"  They had started to attract attention, Nevaeh could feel her cheeks burning now.  
  
  
"Oh, leave the dear thing alone, Roland," said a much older woman, approaching Nevaeh now, "perhaps she simply cannot _afford_ a new dress."  Sir Roland looked at the woman, then back to Nevaeh with a lifted brow. Nevaeh felt insulted, but she held her chin up all the same.  
  
  
"It _is_ new," she said, through clenched teeth. The woman looked confused, then stood back a little.  
  
  
"Oh," she said indignantly, looking Nevaeh over, then she excused herself and wandered away. Nevaeh felt angry tears beginning to prick her eyes, suddenly this assignment could throw itself out of the window for all she cared. It just wasn't worth the hurt and humiliation, she thought she could handle anything - until she met Sir Roland.  
  
  
She turned and walked towards the door, ready to admit defeat; when she felt a hand upon her shoulder. Sniffling, she turned to see who it might have been but she only saw Roland standing there with his hands at his sides. So, _who had touched her shoulder?_ Nevaeh stepped outside, closing the door behind her and finally allowed the tears to fall down her cheeks.  
  
  
"Now there's something I see every single day," came a voice.  Nevaeh glanced up to see the chef from earlier, walking towards her.  
  
  
"Oh, hello," Nevaeh tried to sound brave but her voice trembled and gave her away.  
  
  
"Don't let him get to you," the chef stood by her for a moment, "just about everybody who walks outta this place is in tears or real close to it.  It's nothing personal, don't worry about it."  Nevaeh gave him a brief smile.  
  
  
"Thanks," she sniffled again and he handed her a tissue from his bag.  
  
  
"I gotta get in there," he told Nevaeh, "I'm late and Sir Roland hates it when that happens."  Nevaeh did not envy him this entrance one little bit.  
  
  
"Have you ever seen Sir Roland display any kind of affection?" she asked the chef curiously, "even just once?"  He looked thoughtful, then shook his head.  
  
  
"Nope," he replied shortly, "but then, I don't hang about, you know. I just get in, do my job and get out."  Nevaeh nodded, she understood perfectly.  
  
  
"Do you know any friends of his that I might be able to ask?" Nevaeh questioned him. The chef laughed heartily.  
  
  
"Sir Roland? Friends? That's funny!" his booming laughter made her feel a little better, "lady, you're alright. By the way, my name's Mark. If you ever need anything, you just let me know."  
  
  
"Nevaeh," she introduced herself, "and thanks."  
  
  
"Hey, no problem," he still looked amused, "now, if you'll excuse me, I'm now late for my own beheading."  She watched as he walked inside, catching a brief glimpse of Sir Roland's scathing glare before the door closed again. Nevaeh sat down upon the steps to recompose herself, she felt bad for Mark and wondered how he coped. The job must have paid very well, because he kept coming back but Nevaeh wasn't so sure that she herself could put up with Roland; even if he was paying her more money than she'd ever seen in her life.  



	5. The Snoop

A while later, Nevaeh turned back towards the door and took a deep breath before she walked back inside. Looking around, she noticed that everyone had gone to the dining room to eat. She was relieved that there wasn't anyone in the living room, because she knew she couldn't take another insult today. She walked over to a staircase, looked up and wondered what else she could discover about Roland just by exploring his home.  
  
  
Glancing over her shoulder, she quickly headed up the stairs to see what she could find. The rooms were typical of a mansion, large and well furnished but they felt cold and sterile. There wasn't any warmth in them, no family photos on the walls or pictures of get togethers with people on the mantles. Even his bedroom looked like something out of a posh hotel. Nevaeh saw another flight of stairs that led to the third floor of his home, but she sighed and began to head back down to the first floor. Did he actually live here or was this just some place he had purchased already furnished, just to hold parties in?  
  
  
She could only guess that this evening was planned days ago, he might have at least warned her before she came back and embarrassed herself. As she got to the first floor, Nevaeh stopped short as she noticed Sir Roland sitting there watching her.  
  
  
"What do you think you're doing?" he demanded, "I thought you had gone home."  
  
  
"I-I was just... " Nevaeh stammered.  
  
  
"Being nosey?" Roland inclined his head.  Nevaeh lowered her gaze.  
  
  
"I could have you for trespassing," he informed her. She looked at him again, but he wasn't moving towards the phone.  
  
  
"Did you find anything interesting?" he asked her. Nevaeh frowned, not answering his question.  
  
  
"If you wanted to know something," Roland spoke again, "you might have just asked me."  Nevaeh raised her brows.  
  
  
"Seriously?" she asked him in disbelief.  
  
  
He closed his eyes briefly and nodded.  
  
  
"What's wrong with my dress?" Nevaeh asked him.  
  
  
"Are we still talking about that?" Roland asked her, exasperated.  
  
  
  
  
  
Nevaeh sighed.  
  
  
"Just tell me," she insisted, "come on, what's wrong with it?"  
  
  
"Is this a trick question?" Roland puzzled.  Nevaeh walked over to him and sat down across from him, noting the way he shifted and sat back a little.  
  
  
"Why are you so _mean?_ " she demanded. He looked taken aback, then he leaned forwards and lowered his voice.  
  
  
"Nevaeh," he spoke softly, "I am the nicest person I know." He smiled and leaned back again, Nevaeh frowned.  
  
  
"That's just sad," she shook her head slowly.  
  
  
"No," Roland said firmly, "what's sad is, you actually looked in the mirror this morning and still came out in public!"  
  
  
Nevaeh's jaw dropped, his tone was defensive but it was still extremely uncalled for.

 

She stared at him in utter disbelief, though she felt as if she should not be so surprised. His words stung her, she slowly closed her mouth and tried not to let him see how much he'd hurt her.  
  
  
"Why did you say that to me?" she wanted to know if he had a reason for it.  
  
  
"For your own good," he stated simply. Nevaeh blinked slowly.  
  
  
"You think I'll benefit from your insulting me?" she asked him.  
  
  
"Insult you?" his brow furrowed, "how is that insulting? I only spoke in honesty. The dress is hideous, I felt perhaps someone ought to have told you by now but clearly nobody has."  Nevaeh stared at him as if he were from another planet, then she found herself wondering if he had indeed been born on another world. He was such an irate inducing human being!  
  
  
"Do you like my shoes?" Nevaeh kept her cool.  
  
  
"With that dress?" Roland asked her.  
  
  
"No," she answered him calmly, "just on their own. Do you like them?"  He tilted his head, leaning forwards to get a better look at them. Nevaeh watched his eyes, they were normally hidden behind dark glasses or sunshades but right now he wasn't wearing any. They were blue, but slightly mismatched. She found them interesting, but stopped staring when he sat back and offered her a small smile.  
  
  
"No," he said firmly. Nevaeh sighed heavily, averting her eyes. Did he actually like anything at all?  She suddenly wondered how he would take an insult directed at his own clothing, but she held her tongue. If she got started on him, he would lash out at her again and she knew she couldn't hold it together because... She found him physically attractive. She hated to admit it, but he was quite good looking despite the sharpness of his tongue.  
  
  
"Why are you still here?" he asked her flippantly. Nevaeh slowly got to her feet, as he picked up a magazine and began to passively flip through it.  
  
  
"Don't forget to come to the studio tomorrow morning," he spoke, looking at her as she stood by the door. Nevaeh wasn't sure why he'd told her this, so she hesitated and waited for him to explain. He rolled his eyes.  
  
  
"What now?" he demanded.  
  
  
"Well, why do you want me there?" she asked him. His expression turned quite amazed.  
  
  
"You're my PA, are you not?" he questioned her. Nevaeh felt her cheeks turning red again as she nodded silently.  
  
  
"Then I suggest you show up to work on time," Roland cautioned her, "and wear something more appropriate."  
  
  
His gaze flicked down to her shoes again, then he shook his head and began to look at his magazine once more. Nevaeh decided to leave then, before he found something else to criticize her about.  



	6. Compliments

The next day, Nevaeh found herself at the studio way before she was supposed to be there. The whole place was still just opening up, the smell of fresh morning coffee filled the air as she wandered around and looked for Sir Roland's studio. Eventually, she stumbled across it and found him there already. He sat in his director's chair, reading through the script casually. Nevaeh stood idly by for a while, she rather enjoyed it when he was quiet. Which was a shame, because he had such a lovely voice; she just wished that he'd use it for saying nicer things to people. Roland suddenly looked around at her, peering over the top of his shades.  
  
  
"You're too early," he scolded her.  Nevaeh walked over to him, sitting on a second chair and turning it to face him.  
  
  
"I like your outfit," she complimented him. It was customary to give a compliment back to someone if they said something nice about you, so she waited expectantly but he didn't even so much as thank her.  
  
  
"Have you tasted the coffee here?" he asked, as if he hadn't heard her, "it's simply _vile!_ Personally speaking, I prefer a much finer blend."   He lit up a cigarette, placing it into a long holder and Nevaeh marveled at it because she hadn't seen one before.  
  
  
"I imagine dishwater tastes better than their filthy-.. " he started but someone entered the room and dropped off a cup of coffee to him, then they quickly exited and Nevaeh couldn't help but look amused.  
  
  
Sir Roland looked at the cup in his hand with disapproval, he also seemed slightly bewildered but only for a moment. He handed the coffee to her, Nevaeh slowly reached out and took the cup from him. Her fingers brushed against his, because he hadn't yet let go of it. He then withdrew his hand, turning back to the script in his lap.  
  
  
"What do you want me to do with this?" Nevaeh asked him.  
  
  
"Drink it," he said in a flat tone, "I'm almost certain you'd never notice the difference."  
  
  
Nevaeh pursed her lips, resisting the urge she suddenly had to throw the coffee into his face.  
  
  
She hesitantly sipped the coffee and was surprised, because it was far superior to any other coffee she'd had in her life. Of course, she wasn't about to let Roland know that so she drank it while he went over the script in complete silence. On a whim, she leaned in close to his ear.  
  
  
"Thanks for the coffee," she whispered. He looked slowly around at her, but his expression was far from flustered.  
  
  
"When was the last time you brushed your teeth?" he grimaced, "your breath is _questionable_ at best!"  Nevaeh couldn't stop herself from blushing, she stood up and quickly exited the room.  
  
  
"Are you alright, miss?" asked a young man, who looked tired and about to leave.  
  
  
"I just need to find a trashcan," Nevaeh tried not to let her fresh set of tears fall down her cheeks.  
  
  
"There's one just over there," replied the man, "I've just emptied it."  He paused and then left, obviously the night janitor. Nevaeh walked over to the trashcan but she could not bring herself to let go of the styrofoam cup. She felt his fingers touching hers again, but when she blinked she realized it was just wishful thinking. She dropped it into the trashcan at last, determined not to like him at all and returned to the chair at his side.  
  
  
"I think this film is going to do quite well," said the male PA at Roland's other side. There were cameras and actors standing around now, as the set begun to get busy.  
  
  
"Of _course_ it will," Sir Roland chided him. Nevaeh thought about telling them both that she wanted it to flop, but she held her tongue and simply watched as the first scene started to come together. The woman who was playing the widow in the movie, was wearing a lovely hat. It had a wide brim, was covered with flowers and ribbons and Nevaeh couldn't stop looking at it.  
  
  
"CUT!" Sir Roland stood up and approached the older woman, "what _are_ you wearing?!"   The woman seemed surprised.  
  
  
"Oh, it was my grandmother's," she told him, "do you like it?"  
  
  
"No I don't _like it!_ " Roland raised his voice, "you're supposed to be in mourning, not going to some ridiculous hat parade! Get rid of it!"  
  
  
He stormed back to his chair and sat down, as the older woman slowly removed her prized hat and set it down off set. Nevaeh was impressed at the woman's composure, it didn't even falter for a second and she was soon back doing her lines again. Nevaeh looked at Sir Roland, his eyes were so focused upon the set that he did not notice her watching him. She studied the intense stare of his eyes behind the dark shades that he wore, the look of utter concentration on his face and she felt the tension all around her.  
  
  
She let her gaze wander and was surprised to find that Sir Roland was probably the only one actually watching the scene unfold before them, except the cameramen. All others were watching Roland nervously, some were even biting their fingernails. She found that if he requested something, several people would trip over themselves to get it for him straight away and he still complained when it arrived that they had taken up too much of his valuable time.


	7. Dinner Date

When filming was over for the day, Nevaeh followed Sir Roland outside and he stood watching her while waiting for a car to come and collect him.  
  
  
"That went well," she tried to engage him in conversation. His gaze trailed down her body, then back to her eyes again.  
  
  
"You _would_ think that," he spoke dismissively, smirking at her.

  
  
  
Nevaeh frowned.  
  
  
"What do you mean?" she demanded.  
  
  
"You're _clearly_ uncultured," he told her, as if stating a fact.  
  
  
"You don't know the _first thing_ about me!" Nevaeh got defensive.  
  
  
"I'm attending a film festival this weekend," he told her, "you shall accompany me."  
  
  
"Oh really?" Nevaeh put her hands on her hips.  
  
  
"Naturally," he looked her over again and Nevaeh finally realized he hadn't spoken ill of her dress, "who knows? You might actually learn something."  
  
  
"You know you've got some nerve!" Nevaeh accused him, her eyes wide in anger.  
  
  
But his expression of confusion soon quelled her outrage, _why_ did he not understand that his words were _hurtful?_ It was both frustrating and utterly fascinating.  
  
  
"Is something wrong, Nevaeh?" he asked her.  
  
  
She just stared at him, trying to figure him out and then his car pulled around so he got into it. She watched as it drove away, but he did not look back at her. When it was out of sight, Nevaeh went home and slumped on the sofa; exhausted.  
  
  
*

A short time later, just as she was about to have dinner; her phone rang. She picked it up and was surprised to hear Sir Roland's voice on the other end, how had he got her phone number?  He sounded quite distressed, so she told him she'd be right there and hung up.  
  
  
*  
  
  
A while after that, she arrived at the mansion and he let her in.  
  
  
"What is it?" Nevaeh asked him, "what's happened?"  
  
  
"Mark's ill," Roland informed her, "he didn't come in this evening."  Nevaeh raised a brow at him, almost out of breath because she'd hurried to get there so quickly.  
  
  
"That's it?" she demanded, "you could have told me that over the phone!"  He was looking at her expectantly now. Nevaeh could not believe it, he wanted _her_ to cook for him?  
  
  
"Oohh no!" Nevaeh held up her hands, "no way, I am so _not_ making your dinner!"  She walked towards the door and hesitated, her hand upon the brass knob as she glanced over her shoulder at him. He stood there, looking lost again with his eyes darting around the room uncertainly. Nevaeh sighed, why did she have to turn around? She could have just walked out the door!  
  
  
"Fine," she caved in, "go and wash up, it'll be ready soon."  Roland examined his hands, he seemed unsure of why she would ask him to wash up but he left silently for the bathroom anyway. Nevaeh walked into the kitchen, but she was no chef! What could she possibly cook for him on such short notice?  
  
  
Presently, Sir Roland was waiting in the living room with a new magazine. Nevaeh called him to the dining table and set a bowl down onto it. Roland sat down and looked into the bowl curiously, then he leaned back; undecided.  
  
  
"What is this?" he asked her sharply, "it looks disgusting!"  
  
  
"It's bean soup," said Nevaeh.  Sir Roland looked at her, then back down at the bowl.  
  
  
"I don't care what it's _been_ ," he said with a grimace, "I want to know what is _now!_ "  Nevaeh pursed her lips, frowning at him and wanting to just dump the entire bowl of soup into his lap.  
  
  
"Why don't we get take out?" she suggested, rather than try to explain it to him. He looked at her blankly.  
  
  
"Have you never eaten take away?" Nevaeh asked him.  
  
  
"Is that something impoverished people do because they cannot afford a personal chef?" Roland asked her. Nevaeh took a deep breath to calm herself, she really needed to speak to this man's parents and give them each a very firm slap.  
  
  
"Just wait in the living room," she said at last, "I'll order in."  
  
  
He still didn't seem to know what she was talking about, but he quietly left the table and Nevaeh picked up the phone to order some chinese food. While she was waiting for it to be delivered, Nevaeh reluctantly joined Sir Roland in the living room.  
  
  
"Is it ready yet?" he asked her, looking baffled as she sat down.  
  
  
"It'll be here soon," she told him.  
  
  
"Where is it now?" he asked her, impatiently.  
  
  
"Will you just wait?" Nevaeh scolded him. Roland sat back, regarding her silently for a moment.  
  
  
"Does someone else have my food?" he questioned her.  
  
  
Nevaeh sighed heavily, looking at the clock on the wall and urging the delivery man to hurry.  
  
  
*  
  
  
A short time later, the food was delivered and Nevaeh set it all out onto the dining table. Roland sat down, looking it over with his critical gaze.  
  
  
"Who made this?" he asked.  
  
  
"I don't know," Nevaeh replied, "try it."  He looked hesitant.  
  
  
"What if someone touched it?" he asked her, "no, this is unacceptable. I can not possibly eat this!" Nevaeh sat down across from him.  
  
  
"Fine!" she smiled at him brightly, helping herself to some dinner, "all the more for me!" Sir Roland looked stunned as he watched her.  
  
  
"How can you put that stuff into your mouth so brazenly?" he asked her, "you don't even know what's in it!"  
  
  
  
  
  
Nevaeh continued eating as he watched her, though she was careful to be polite in front of him because that's what he was used to. Sir Roland stared at Nevaeh, his expression not unlike that of someone who was watching people sitting down to eat a can of dog food. He looked utterly disgusted, yet he didn't turn away. But why?  
  
  
"Why not try some?" Nevaeh suggested again, "you might enjoy it."  
  
  
"I sincerely doubt it," Roland folded his arms in front of himself. Nevaeh shrugged.  
  
  
"Would you please pass the noodles?" she asked him. Sir Roland raised a brow, but he passed them over to her and stared at her as she started to eat them.  
  
  
Nevaeh hid a smile as he looked around at the small boxes of food, opening them up and peering inside. She watched him discreetly, as he picked up a plastic fork and studied it as if he'd never seen one before in his life. She thought he looked very much like someone from outer space, experiencing dinner with a human for the first time. Eventually, he did eat but only very little. Nevaeh had to settle for that, for it was ' _something is better than nothing_ ' at this point.


	8. Earthlings and Aliens

Afterwards, they sat in the living room together and Roland was unusually quiet. Nevaeh felt awkward just sitting there with him and not talking, but she didn't know what to say to him. She looked into his eyes, but he averted them after a short time and Nevaeh grew more interested in him.  
  
  
"Would you like to talk?" she offered. With nobody else around, they were completely alone and wouldn't be overheard. Perhaps now he might open up to her. He looked up and she smiled at him, she thought she saw him very nearly smile back but she could have been mistaken.  
  
  
"No," he replied abruptly. Nevaeh sat for a few more minutes, then she stood up.  
  
  
"I should get home," she told him, just wanting to get away from him and his awkward silences.  
  
  
She almost wished he'd have insulted her or told her how terrible the food had been, but he hadn't spoken a word. He casually watched her as she walked to the door, then he turned to the coffee table and selected a magazine. Nevaeh opened the door, looking back at him but he seemed to have forgotten she was ever there to begin with. Suddenly, he glanced up and she felt her heart beating faster.  
  
  
"Shut the door," he told her stiffly, then he stood up and took his magazine upstairs.  
  
  
Nevaeh sighed, closing the door behind her as she went home again. Despite the lack of conversation, she had to admit that she learned something new about Sir Roland every day she was with him. She felt like she was slowly starting to get to know him, but it was going too slowly. She needed to push it with him and speed up the process, her paper was due in a few weeks and she hadn't even started it yet. She fell asleep that night thinking about Roland, she had a dream about him taking off in his spaceship but when she awoke; she forgot all about it and went out for breakfast.  
  
  
***  
  
  
She turned up early again at the studio, finding Sir Roland already there once again. She sat in the chair next to him again, he looked up at her and she offered him a smile.  
  
  
"Morning," she said happily.  He just looked annoyed and returned his attention to that day's script.  
  
  
"How's the coffee today?" Nevaeh asked him, noticing the cup sitting by his chair.  
  
  
"I've had better," came his distracted response, "if you can call _dirt and spit_ a cup of coffee. I think I will bring my own from now on."  Nevaeh looked disgusted at the way he described the coffee, but she knew it wasn't as bad as he said.  
  
  
"So, I've never been to a film festival before," Nevaeh said, trying to get him talking.  
  
  
"I know," he replied smugly, not looking up for more than a second. Nevaeh closed her eyes, silently counting to five. She opened her eyes, deciding to try again.  
  
  
"What is it like?" she asked him. He looked at her strangely, then sat back and tilted his head.  
  
  
"Why do you insist on talking to me?" he demanded. Nevaeh felt embarrassed and wished he'd stop making her feel like a stranger, she honestly believed they were closer than that by now.  
  
  
"I just want to, that's all," she answered him quietly.  
  
  
He didn't seem to understand why she would want to, he kept staring at her but she didn't know what else to tell him. She stood up and walked over to the doorway, he took the hint and looked back down at the script again. It was earlier than last time, so there was still a while to wait and Nevaeh found herself a little bored. Roland wasn't talking and there wasn't anyone else around, so she wandered around the set to explore a little. Roland watched her from time to time, his expression unreadable. Nevaeh strolled behind a background screen, then she heard someone talking and peered slowly around to see who it was.  
  
  
There was a woman standing near Roland, talking to him with her best smile on. She was very pretty, her body language was suggestive and flirty but Sir Roland was barely even paying her any attention. She knelt down and spoke a little more quietly to him, he was looking at her now with slight interest. Nevaeh wondered if he would fall for this woman's flirty charms? She crept a little closer, so she could hear what was being said.  
  
  
"...And I do mean _anything_ ," the woman was saying in a low tone, her lips brushing against his ear and her hand on Roland's thigh sliding to his crotch, "Sir Roland... Moore... _cock_... "  With that last word, Roland looked very uncomfortable, sucking in a sharp gasp as her hand pressed firmly between his legs. Nevaeh looked mortified, if Roland was doing that to the woman there'd be a lawsuit. _How dare she?!_ Sir Roland carefully removed her hand, pushing it down from his crotch.  
  
  
"What can I say?" he sounded a little breathless and the woman smiled at him like a predator. Nevaeh was a little disappointed, she hadn't figured him to be so easily seduced.  
  
  
"Except, your breasts are asymmetrical and that just doesn't sit right with the camera," Sir Roland spoke calmly now.  
  
  
The woman stood back from him, covering her chest with her arms in embarrassment and promptly hurrying off the set with stifled sobs. Nevaeh felt only a little bit sorry for her, but not a great deal. She walked back to sit by Roland, he didn't seem at all disturbed by the violation.  
  
  
"Are you alright?" she ventured. He barely glanced up at her.  
  
  
"Why shouldn't I be?" he asked her, curiously.  
  
  
"That woman," said Nevaeh, astonished.  
  
  
"What about her?" Roland now looked at her, his eyes questioning.  
  
  
"Roland, I don't know what it's called on your home planet," Nevaeh said angrily, "but here on Earth we call that sexual harassment!"   Sir Roland lowered his gaze back to the script.  
  
  
"Aren't you going to do something?" Nevaeh urged him.  
  
  
He said no more and others began to drift in as the hour to begin filming drew nearer. Nevaeh couldn't concentrate all that day, she just could not understand how he could go on like nothing had happened. He was his usual self, all focus and concentration with plenty of snide remarks for everyone.  
  
  
*  
  
  
As the day came to an end, Nevaeh once again followed Roland out to wait for his ride home. He looked a little tired, she had to wonder if he was not sleeping well.  
  
  
"I'm sorry I called you a space alien this morning," she apologized. He looked at her quizzically, but did not respond.  
  
  
"Roland," Nevaeh pressed the issue, "what happened to you this morning is not okay... "  He looked at her, clearly annoyed with her again.  
  
  
"Nevaeh," he spoke harshly, "you are not here to counsel me, you are here to work for me. Do try to remember that and keep your nose out of my personal business!"  He turned sharply and got into his car, looking quite angry as it drove off. Nevaeh sighed heavily, suddenly aware of someone approaching her.  
  
  
"Hey," it was Roland's male PA, Derek.  
  
  
"Oh, hi Derek," Nevaeh greeted him quietly.  
  
  
"Is Sir Roland getting you down?" he asked.  Nevaeh smirked.  
  
  
"Do you, of all people, seriously have to ask that?" she replied. Derek shook his head, amused.  
  
  
"What's he got to complain about?" Derek asked, "you're a great PA."  
  
  
"Thanks," Nevaeh smiled at him, then she hesitated.  
  
  
"There's something else," Derek sensed, "isn't there?"  Nevaeh looked at him.  
  
  
"There was a woman this morning," she said slowly.  Derek seemed to know where this was going.  
  
  
"She came onto Roland?" he asked. Nevaeh lifted a brow.  
  
  
"How did you...?" she trailed off, "it's happened before?"  Derek nodded.  
  
  
"Sadly, yes," Derek replied, "more times than I care to count. You shouldn't concern yourself with it, Sir Roland can take care of himself. And besides... It's probably the only time he ever gets anywhere _near_ a woman! I think he enjoys it, to be honest!" Derek chuckled and walked away, but Nevaeh didn't find it so funny. _How could he be so disrespectful?_ He was supposed to be Roland's right-hand man!  
  
  
Sir Roland was not a very nice person, but nobody deserved to suffer from sexual abuse in silence.


	9. The Film Festival

Nevaeh got into her car and drove aimlessly for a while, but when she finally took notice of where she was going; she found herself pulling up outside of Sir Roland's mansion...  
She went to his door and pressed the little doorbell, he answered it but he was not pleased to see her; but then, he never was.  
  
  
"It's late," he said firmly.  
  
  
"It's really not," Nevaeh argued, "can I come in?"  He paused, but stepped aside and she walked in. Sir Roland shut the door, then joined her in the living room. She sat but he stood and did not come too close to her.  
  
  
"I was about to go to bed," he informed her, but Nevaeh heard Mark in the kitchen.  
  
  
"Roland I really am sorry," she insisted, "I know it wasn't my place to speak to you in that way."  He seemed uncertain of what to say to her, so she made it easier for him and kept talking.  
  
  
"You're so defensive and closely guarded," Nevaeh spoke quietly, "you push everyone away, nobody can get close to you."  
  
  
"Nevaeh," Roland's tone was a warning in itself, his expression was most displeased with where this was going.  She stood up and walked over to him, looking him in the eye.  
  
  
"Just tell me that you're alright," she invited him to open up, "and I'll leave you alone."  Roland was silent for a while, just staring into her eyes and she found herself getting a little flustered.  
  
  
"Promise?" he spoke at last.  Nevaeh frowned as he walked by her, not saying another word to her. She turned and he vanished in to the dining room, but this time she didn't follow him. Instead, she made good on her word and left him alone.  
  
  
*  
  
  
Mark walked into the dining room and set Sir Roland's food down in front of him.  
  
  
"Alright?" asked Mark. Sir Roland looked up slowly, his expression questioning.  
  
  
"Never mind," sighed Mark, then he left Roland alone, too. Sir Roland looked around at the empty table, filled up his glass with wine and ate his meal in silence.  
  
  
***  
  
  
It was the day of the film festival and Nevaeh was actually a little excited. She was ready long before the car arrived to collect her, she got in and sat next to Sir Roland with a smile.  
  
  
"I can hardly wait," she said to him, as they drove along.  
  
  
"It should be very educational for you," Roland said with a smirk.  
  
  
Nevaeh ignored his smug tone and simply looked forward to seeing all the entertainment that waited for her at the festival.  
  
  
*  
  
  
They arrived at the film festival and Nevaeh stayed close to Roland, not wanting to lose him in the crowd. There were so many things to see, so many people wanting Sir Roland to sign them up - the noise was dizzying! She felt a warm hand gently take her own, it pulled her into a small theater where it was dark and quiet. She looked up and saw Sir Roland, watching her as she followed him along the rows of seats.  
  
  
A movie began to play and the people who were already seated watched curiously. Nevaeh sat down beside Roland when he was finally happy with a seat, letting go of her hand in order to get comfortable.  
  
  
"Thanks," said Nevaeh, "the noise outside was really getting to me."  He glanced at her.  
  
  
"Was it?" he asked her, sounding quite dismissive. Nevaeh shook her head slowly, turning her eyes to the screen and sighing with irritation. The film playing was a short, romantic comedy but Nevaeh didn't hear Sir Roland laugh even once. She laughed a couple of times, but he just looked bored.  
  
  
"The scripting is all wrong," he said quietly, leaning in close to her, "and the lighting is terrible! She looks like she's made of plastic!"  Nevaeh couldn't help but smile, but was it at his criticism or his sudden closeness?  
  
  
She boldly placed her hand over his, as it rested on the arm of the chair he was sitting on and he looked at her hand pointedly. She knew he was silently demanding that she remove it, but she left it there for a while longer and oddly enough; he didn't pull away. _Was Derek right?_  
  
  
No, she dismissed the thought at once. Derek was a jerk, he knew nothing. Nevaeh curled her fingers around Sir Roland's hand, holding it tightly and he did not look at her this time. She shifted closer to him, feeling his fingers now closing around hers and smiling to herself as her heart began to race excitedly. The film ended all too soon, they left the little makeshift theater and Nevaeh was elated that he continued to hold onto her hand. She knew it was just so he didn't lose her in the crowd, and have to go looking for her but she liked to imagine there was something more to it than that. The trouble was, she couldn't figure out why she wanted him to like her. She also couldn't figure out why she was starting to like him, or why she so desperately wanted to become his friend.  
  
  
Nevaeh didn't want to be just someone who worked with him, she wanted to be closer than that. But would he tolerate it?  
  
  
*  
  
  
At lunchtime, he took her to a restaurant to discuss the films they had seen and remind her of how badly they had been done.  
  
  
"Well, they _are_ mostly amateurs," Nevaeh defended them lightly, "perhaps you should give them some pointers?"  
  
  
"I shouldn't like to waste my time on such trivial nonsense," Sir Roland responded airily, "if they asked me for my advice, I would tear down the entire film and start from scratch."  
  
  
Nevaeh simply smiled at him and enjoyed her lunch, it was a little less hurtful when she stopped taking his comments to heart. She even found them somewhat humorous now, but then; they weren't being directed at her yet.  
  
  
*  
  
  
By the end of the day, Nevaeh was exhausted but happy. She sat next to Sir Roland in the back of his car, her head resting upon his shoulder and her eyes closed. The car slowed down and came to a stop, she reluctantly opened her eyes and lifted her head to look at her home. Then she turned to Roland.  
  
  
"Thank you for inviting me today," she said to him quietly, "I can't believe I actually had a nice time with you."  He looked at her with a slight frown and she regretted saying it at once, suddenly widening her eyes but he smiled at her.  
  
  
"To be honest I thought today was going to be a complete waste of time," he said sharply. She waited for him to tell her that it hadn't been, but he simply stopped talking and gestured to her house.  
  
  
"Off you go then," he ushered her out of his car, "see you bright and early Monday morning."  Nevaeh slowly got out and stood there for a moment, shivering lightly in the cool evening air.  
  
  
" _Was_ it a waste of time?" she asked, as he reached over to pull the door shut.  He looked at her silently for a second or two, then he got out of the car and Nevaeh walked towards her door with him. When she got there, she turned to him and looked at his eyes.  
  
  
"I really did have a lovely time," she admitted to him.  He looked uncertain as she leaned in closer to kiss him goodnight, shying away awkwardly at the last moment.  
  
  
"What's wrong?" Nevaeh asked him, puzzled.  
  
  
"In you go," Roland directed her. Nevaeh took out her key, opened the door and paused before going inside.  
  
  
"Wanna come in?" she invited him, "I've got tea... "  
  
  
"I don't drink tea," Sir Roland looked irritatedly at her.  
  
  
"Me either," she trailed her gaze down his body and back up to his eyes again. She reached out and grasped his shirt, pulling him inside...  



	10. The Morning After

Morning found Nevaeh half covered with blankets, the rest of her completely unclothed. She slowly opened her eyes and smiled as she recounted the events of last night in her mind, she couldn't remember ever having such incredible sex before. Sir Roland was a real powerhouse in bed, he'd certainly left her breathless and weak. She just wished he would have stayed the night, it would have been so perfect to wake up in his embrace and kiss his sleepy face as he woke up.  
  
  
She rolled over and snoozed a little bit longer, it was her day off and that meant it was time to sleep in. She'd do her shopping later on, when her legs started working again...  
  
  
***  
  
  
Nevaeh was in the coffee shop near her home, when her friend Vicki joined her.  
  
  
"Hey," Nevaeh greeted her, "how're you?"  
  
  
"Not bad," Vicki replied, "so how's your paper going? I'm just about done with mine. Are you still doing yours on Sir Roland?"  
  
  
"Yeah," nodded Nevaeh, "it's going... kinda slowly, actually."  
  
  
"I'll bet it is," smirked Vicki, "you couldn't have chosen a harder nut to crack."  
  
  
"I know, right?" Nevaeh sighed heavily, "I mean, I've got a couple of pages done but I'm double spacing right now."  Vicki chuckled lightly.  
  
  
"I'm surprised you've lasted this long," she said, grabbing her coffee to go, "he's cute but that temper of his will get him into serious trouble someday. I'll see you around!"  Nevaeh watched her go and sighed again, shaking her head slowly and thinking about what Vicki had said. Would someone actually get angry enough with Roland that they would hurt him?  She shifted uncomfortably, then she headed home to get ready for tomorrow.  
  
  
***  
  
  
Very early on Monday morning, Nevaeh turned up at the studio. As usual, Sir Roland was already there and going through the day's scripting. She sat down beside him and smiled when he glanced up at her, but he simply returned his gaze back to the notes in his lap.  
  
  
"So, I had the best time on Saturday night," Nevaeh said quietly. Sir Roland did not respond.  
  
  
"I was thinking maybe we could do it again sometime," Nevaeh invited. He sat back and turned to her, looking quite irked.  
  
  
"Would you just stop talking?" he asked her, "I'm trying to concentrate."  Nevaeh was a little confused.  
  
  
"I just.. I thought you know, since we shared something special... " she faltered.  
  
  
"Special?" Roland blanched, "it was... adequate at best. But it never should have happened."  Nevaeh raised her brows.  
  
  
"What?" she asked him, "why not?"   He sighed impatiently.  
  
  
"It was a moment of weakness on my part," he told her coldly, "do you honestly think you're the first woman to try getting into my films by seducing me to bed?"  He rolled his eyes and went back to studying the script, imagery forming in his mind so that he could direct the scenes to perfection; the way he saw it happen in his thoughts. Nevaeh looked absolutely mortified, she wasn't looking to be a film star and she'd told him as much when they'd first met. _Why did he accuse her of it now?_ People began to drift onto the set.  
  
  
"Roland, I never asked to be in your film," Nevaeh spoke to him firmly. He looked at her, somewhat thoughtfully.  
  
  
"In fact, I've never asked you for anything," Nevaeh went on, "I just wanted to be close to you."  She'd just wanted to pick his brain, but had since begun to care for him a little more than that. He snapped his head around as a bright light shone into his eyes.  
  
  
"Who moved those lights?" he demanded, "get them back to their positions! You there, remove that child! Cameras into place! And somebody, get me a _decent bloody coffee_!"  He was irritated and people began to trip over things while trying to please him, Nevaeh wandered away from the set and leaned against a wall.  
  
  
"Excuse me," came a timid voice, "I couldn't help but overhear you talking to Roland."  Nevaeh glanced up at a woman, who held out a ceramic coffee mug to her.  
  
  
"Here, give this to him," she said to Nevaeh, "tell him you made it yourself."  Nevaeh carefully accepted the coffee, frowning puzzledly.  
  
  
"What is it?" she asked.  
  
  
"Trust me," said the woman, walking away, "he will love it." 


	11. Revenge Attack

Nevaeh turned and took the mug to Sir Roland, who accepted it without question from her and drank some of it right away. He paused, eyes closed briefly.  
  
  
"Perfect," he sighed softly. Nevaeh smiled a little.  
  
  
"I made it myself," she lied. He opened his eyes and looked at her, but no insults ensued. Nevaeh watched as he relaxed into his director's chair, drinking the coffee while everyone got ready for the day's filming. But when he was finished the coffee, the cup fell to the ground and Nevaeh frowned with annoyance.  
  
  
"You know," she bent down to pick it up, "you could have just handed it to me... "  She straightened up and looked at him, he seemed a little out of sorts.  
  
  
"Roland?" Nevaeh looked at his eyes, "Roland?"  He sort of stared at her for a moment, then his eyes closed and he passed out.  
  
  
"Somebody call an ambulance!" Nevaeh shouted, then she shook his shoulders gently, "Roland!"  
  
  
*  
  
  
Things seemed to go in slow motion after that. Someone called the ambulance, the paramedics arrived and they took Sir Roland to the hospital.  
  
  
A few short hours later, she was allowed in to see him. Nevaeh sat beside the bed, his eyes flickered open and he sat up a little.  
  
  
"What did you put in that coffee?" he asked her, sounding a little weak.  Nevaeh felt tears well up in her eyes.  
  
  
"I'm so sorry," she said softly, "I didn't actually make it myself... "  He sighed and lay back down again. Nevaeh felt she should have known better, Sir Roland never put anything in his mouth if he didn't know who had made it or where it came from or if anyone had touched it.  
  
  
"Just go," he dismissed her. Nevaeh slowly got up and kissed his cheek, he turned away from her and she left. She'd cost him a whole day's worth of filming, that had to be expensive. She felt really bad, but she'd given her statement to the police and described the woman as best she could to them. There wasn't anything more she could do now, except be there for Roland and he wanted nothing more to do with her.  
  
  
Nevaeh went home, she didn't blame him one bit.


	12. Nothing Has Changed

Tuesday morning saw Nevaeh on the set bright and early. Sir Roland was not there, so she sat beside his director's chair and waited for him. She looked around and couldn't help but notice three security guards as they entered the room. A moment later, Sir Roland walked in and sat on his chair. Nevaeh was a little anxious about talking to him, so she stayed silent and noted the coffee cup in his hand. He must have brought it with him from home...  
  
  
Roland picked up the script, his hand trembling slightly as he was still weak from the hospital visit yesterday.  
  
  
"Here," Nevaeh held the script for him nervously, but he did not complain.  
  
  
She admired his eyes in silence, not wanting to distract him or get him started on how stupid and careless she'd been.  
  
  
*  
  
  
Eventually, people began to wander in and the set was readied for the day. Sir Roland hadn't lost his touch, because by the end of the day's filming; at least five people had been reduced to tears. Neveah thought he was worse than ever today, she hadn't seen him lash out quite as much as this before. She followed him outside, waiting for his car and she felt uncomfortable with the security guard that stood right by his side.  
  
  
"Mind if I ride with you?" she asked. He looked at her, obviously displeased with the request.  
  
  
"What do you want from me?" he asked her, genuinely wanting to know this time.  
  
  
"To be honest," Nevaeh shrugged, "all I wanted was to get to know you better."  He didn't seem to follow.  
  
  
"Nevaeh, I don't _like_ you," he told her calmly, "continue working for me if you must, but this friend nonsense will cease immediately."  
  
  
Nevaeh took a step back from him as his car arrived and he got into it, she felt her chest start to ache as the car took him away from her. She could have handled his statement about not liking her if he'd said it angrily, or even sarcastically. But he had spoken the words so calmly and firmly, as if he were merely stating a simple and well known fact. Nevaeh slowly walked to her car and drove home in a daze, by the time she got there it was dark. She sat down and wrote the most scathing paper about Sir Roland, then she fell asleep slumped over the desk.  
  
  
***  
  
  
The sun woke Nevaeh early the next morning, she automatically got ready for the day and turned up at the studio before hours. She honestly had no idea why she bothered anymore, she didn't actually work for Sir Roland and her paper was finished. Sitting down beside him in her usual place, she dared to look at him and he offered her a half smile.  
  
  
"You look like shit," he informed her. Nevaeh sighed and leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes wearily.  
  
  
Then she felt something familiar, that hand upon her shoulder again. It was the exact same one that had been on her shoulder when she'd been in tears at Roland's party. Her eyes opened slowly and she looked to the hand, her eyes trailing up to meet with Sir Roland's. _It had been him all along?_  
  
  
He withdrew his hand from her, then turned his attention back to the set as the actors arrived and people began to wander in. Nevaeh sat in stunned silence for at least an hour of the filming, unable to quite grasp the meaning behind such a gesture from Sir Roland. He never initiated touch, he barely tolerated it himself so what was it for?  
  
  
*  
  
  
During a lunch break, she approached him hesitantly.  
  
  
"Sir Roland?" she ventured. He looked up, a little surprised to see her.  
  
  
"I thought you had more sense," he sighed, taking off his shades to look at her and she found herself admiring his eyes once again.  
  
  
"I want to make it up to you," Nevaeh told him, "why not give Mark the night off and let me cook for you tonight?" He regarded her curiously.  
  
  
"I promise I won't make soup," Nevaeh reassured him, "come to my place tonight, please?"  He seemed to consider the offer, then he nodded.  
  
  
"Alright," he agreed, "if you insist."  
  
  
She noticed the security guards were not around today, he certainly was a brazen man.  
  
  
***  


"Your house is so _tiny!_ " Sir Roland looked around Nevaeh's home with disdain, "how can you _stand_ it?"   Nevaeh tried not to frown at him.  
  
  
"I don't need a lot of space, Roland," she told him, as she set the table.  
  
  
"I've seen _closets_ bigger than your living room," he informed her. Nevaeh bit her tongue, gesturing for him to sit.  
  
  
"Dinner's almost ready," she said patiently. He sat down and looked at her worriedly.  
  
  
"It's not take out again?" he asked her. Nevaeh smiled slightly.  
  
  
"No," she assured him, "I've made it all myself."  He didn't look too convinced, but Nevaeh was certain he would enjoy the meal. She poured him a glass of wine, then she poured one for herself and went to the kitchen. She served up the meal, almost holding her breath as he looked it over and lifted his knife and fork. She relaxed a little when he started eating, smiling to herself and then enjoying the meal she had cooked so carefully that evening.  
  
  
She had poured her heart and soul into this meal, learned it from scratch and had even cooked a few test ones before making the real thing for him tonight. After they were done and were seated in the living room, still drinking their wine, Nevaeh just had to know.  
  
  
"What did you think of dinner?" she asked him, confident because he'd eaten everything on his plate.  
  
  
"Truthfully, if I had a dog I'd be arrested for animal abuse if I fed it to him," Sir Roland spoke harshly, "I didn't think you could do worse than take out, but you sure proved me wrong."  Nevaeh stared at him in utter disbelief, _surely he was joking?_ But he was not smiling, nor smirking. Simply stating his facts again and it hurt. A lot.  Nevaeh stood up.  
  
  
"I'd like you to leave now," her voice trembled a little.  He looked confused, but slowly got to his feet.  
  
  
"Is something the matter?" he asked her. Nevaeh didn't quite know what bothered her more, the fact that his criticism still hurt her or the fact that he had no idea why she was so upset with him.  
  
  
"Please," Nevaeh held the front door open for him, "just get out."  Sir Roland looked at her for a moment, then his expression turned indifferent and he stepped out onto the porch. He turned to her, one brow raised.  
  
  
"Is it my tie?" he asked her.

  
  
  
"No, Roland," Nevaeh sighed, "it's not your tie. Listen, I don't think I want to work for you anymore."  He looked crestfallen.  
  
  
"Oh?" he wondered out loud, "why's that then?"  Nevaeh's eyes grew wide.  
  
  
"Seriously?" she looked at him as if he really ought to know.  
  
  
"I suppose you're right," he relented, "I could do a lot better."  Nevaeh stepped back and slammed the door in his face. Sir Roland stood there for a moment longer, looking a little startled before heading back to his car and getting in. The driver looked at him through the rear view mirror.  
  
  
"She kicked you out?" he asked.  Roland put on his shades.  
  
  
"Yes," he replied shortly.  
  
  
"Did she say why?" asked the driver. Sir Roland shrugged.  
  
  
"Must have been something I said," he replied uncertainly, "drive on."  
  
  
"Right you are, sir," the driver started up the engine, "pity, I'm going to miss that one. She was nice."  Sir Roland leaned back and closed his eyes.  
  
  
"She was _terrible_ ," he commented tiredly, "in fact, she couldn't even put her _blouse_ on straight! I had to _touch her shoulder_ while adjusting it for her...     _twice!_ "

 

  
  
  
***

=THE END=

 


End file.
